


Demons

by Zephyrfox



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest 2020, Angst, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sex, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25146592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: After Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace, James Bond has his share of demons. Ronson helps him find a way to cope with them.
Relationships: James Bond/Ronson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13
Collections: 007 Fest Fancreations





	Demons

**Author's Note:**

> For 007 Fest 2020 Headcanon Week

James Bond was sat in a nameless, hole in the wall pub, drinking. He’d been there for hours. Normally that wasn’t a safe thing to do for an agent — especially one without backup — but he was _grounded._ All because he had a disagreement with M over the amount of destruction he’d caused during his last assignment. He snorted and took another swallow of his pint. What number was this? Five? He’d lost count. Of the number of drinks, not the number of arguments he'd had with M. Those he remembered. Evil Queen of Numbers. He scowled into his glass. At least he was on home territory. The pub with no name catered to a specific clientele. Its entry was through an unmarked and unremarkable door on a side street near MI6. Only people who already knew it was there would cross its threshold. 

No one knew who the owners of The Nameless were, but they kept an agreement that had been in place since early in the Cold War. It was neutral territory. Techs from several intelligence services swept for bugs at least twice a day. Sometimes more often if global tensions were on the rise. So. He was safer there than anywhere else. 

Of course, the safest thing would be to do his drinking at home. Or to not drink quite so much. There were no answers at the bottom of any bottle, after all. He was still trying to find them all the same. Judging by his state of inebriation, the psychologists might have a point about his destructive tendencies. _Whatever._ He just wanted not to think for a while. His demons had been clamoring lately.

Another thing he wasn’t talking to the psychologists about.

A vision of Vesper, floating gently deep beneath the surface of the Venetian canal, flashed through his mind and he took a hasty swallow of his pint to dispel the memory. _Damn it._ He wanted to forget all that. Forget _her._

The problem was that there were others haunting his thoughts, ready to take her place. Fields, lying in bed and coated with the thick oil that had smothered her. Mathis, soaked in blood and limp in death as James left him in a dumpster. The only reason Camille wasn’t one of his demons was that he’d managed to save them both from the fire before he’d had to shoot her.

Someone thumped onto the bench seat opposite him. “How many of those have you had, Bond?” The voice was masculine and vaguely familiar.

James didn’t look up. “Go away,” he growled.

“Sorry. Can’t do that.” The voice didn’t sound regretful at all.

He gritted his teeth and looked up to see an almost-familiar face. One of the field agents, he thought. Usually did courier runs. Ronson? Yes, that sounded about right. “What do you want?” The back of his mind poked him with the idle observation that Ronson was rather good looking.

“You’re drunk, Bond, and I’m taking you home.” 

“You want to take me home?” James let a slow, lazy grin slip over his face. “Why don’t you buy me a drink, first?” To his surprise, Ronson flushed rather than reacting with anger at the proposition. _Interesting._ He made eye-contact and took a slow, deliberate sip from his pint. How far could he push Ronson? “I’m not done drinking yet.”

“Yes, you are.” Ronson’s voice was calm.

Apparently he’d have to push farther if he wanted more of a reaction. Which begged the question: what sort of reaction was he actually looking for? A fight? 

...Something else?

Ronson stood and came around the table to take James’ elbow. The heat of his palm almost burned against James’ skin. “Come on, up you get. If M hears about this she’ll have you shot.”

James snorted. That was true enough. She was still furious with him. Oh, what the hell. Maybe if they went home he could figure out what he wanted from Ronson. He got up carefully, mindful of his shaky balance, and allowed Ronson to escort him out of the pub. 

* * *

The cool night air had the effect of sobering him up a bit as they walked. Ronson didn’t seem to want to talk, and even better, didn’t seem to want to make _James_ talk. The only conversation between them was after they got into the cab, and James had to give his address.

By the time the taxi reached his street, James felt a bit more clear-headed. He didn’t let Ronson know that directly, though. He was enjoying have another human being around. His demons had faded into background noise. When the taxi stopped in front of his building he invited Ronson to come upstairs with him. 

To make sure he got to bed safely, of course. Nothing more. Ronson hadn’t suspected anything and had simply nodded.

At the door to his flat, Ronson turned to him. “Where are your keys?”

“Here.” He fished them out of his pocket and fumbled them into the lock. He giggled as it took a couple tries. “Normally I’ve got better aim than this,” he confided in Ronson. “I can usually get in the holes I’m aiming for.” He attempted to waggle his eyebrows meaningfully, but only succeeded in throwing himself off balance. Well. That told him what more he was interested in.

Ronson heaved a long-suffering sigh and took the keys from him to unlock the door instead. He ushered James inside and closed the door. “Are you going to be all right alone tonight?”

James stared at Ronson, absent-mindedly licking his lips. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, and completely opposite of Vesper. “I want to kiss you.”

Surprise flashed across Ronson’s face. “But, you’re not gay.”

He shook his head. “No, but you are, and I’m… flexible.” He took advantage of Ronson’s surprise and pressed forward, more eager than he thought he’d be for a taste of Ronson‘s lips.

Ronson evidently didn’t mind too much, because it took him a moment or two to object. He gently pushed James away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Kissing you. If we’re both lucky, we'll end up in bed.” James was close enough to Ronson to feel his interest in that idea.

“No, Bond. That’s a bad idea.” Ronson stepped back.

James nearly whined at the loss of contact, but he simply stepped closer again. He took Ronson’s hand and led him toward the bedroom. “It’s fine. It will be fine.”

“Have you ever been with a man before, Bond?” Ronson asked, understandably sceptical.

James shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

“Uh-huh.”

He smiled and let his voice drop suggestively. “Call me James.”

“Oh, what the Hell. Why not?” Ronson gave in. “Call me Sebastian.”

* * *

In the bedroom, they kissed again, and this time it grew heated. James grabbed Ronson’s shirt with one hand to pull him closer, and attempted to unbutton it with the other. Ronson returned the favor, and soon they were standing together, chest to chest.

James moaned at the feel of Ronson’s solid chest pressed against him. Ronson tugged at his belt, undoing then unzipping his trousers. James followed suit, and soon enough both of their cocks sprang free. He gasped at the sensation of Ronson’s hard cock pressing against him, and his own cock pressing against his hip. “Bed, now,” he whispered.

Obligingly, Ronson, pulled him into the bed, their kisses growing more heated as their hands roamed across hot skin, stroking and caressing. Ronson grabbed a double handful of James’ arse and pulled them together. 

Their cocks rubbed against each other, every nerve in James lighting up. He almost couldn’t breathe the sensations were so intense. “Sebastian, wait,” he gasped out. “Bedside table. There a condom and lube.”

Ronson released him and rolled away with a grin. He fumbled the drawer open and pulled out a strip of condoms and the lube. He tossed the condoms to James. “Here you go. Put one on.”

James tossed them back. “You put one on. I want you to fuck me.”

Surprise flashed across Ronson’s face. “What? Are you sure? I thought…” his voice trailed off uncertainly as he watched James.

“Yes.” James closed the distance between them. At this moment, there was nothing he wanted more.

“You, Erm… you have done it before, right?” Ronson asked, voice full of doubt as he eyed James. “Bottomed, I mean?”

“It’s been a while, but yes.” James went in for another kiss, and wriggled himself closer to Ronson’s groin. It was sort of true. He’d asked a lady friend who was interested to peg him once, and a few other times he’d wanked while wearing a butt plug or fucking himself with a dildo. He eyed Ronson’s cock. It was big, but no bigger than his favourite dildo.

A few minutes later, James had a pillow under his back, giving Ronson a better angle, and a generously lubed cock pressed slowly into him. He moaned at the sensation. It was so much better than the feel of his silicone toys. Pressure and pain and pleasure wrapped themselves around his brain as he panted, trying to gain control. 

Ronson stopped immediately. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice anxious.

James nodded, then managed to speak. “Yeah. Just… It’s been a while.”

“Right.” Fortunately, Ronson said nothing more, just continued pressing inward until his cock was entirely inside him. 

From there, James wrapped one leg across Ronson’s to pull them closer together, trapping his cock between them. Heat and friction and his nerves lighting up as if he’d been electrocuted. He hung onto Ronson as he got the pounding of his life. _So good,_ he thought, gasping for breath. He rocked up, meeting Ronson’s thrusts, faster and faster. Almost there…. almost… _there._ He came with a shout, clutching Ronson’s back.

Ronson gasped on surprise, but then his thrusts sped up, quickly becoming erratic, until he abruptly stiffened. James felt Ronson’s cock twitching inside him, and moaned again. It was an almost pleasurable pain.

When it was over, he lay there panting for breath. Ronson, lungs working hard to draw in air, lay collapsed on top of him.

Maybe Ronson would agree to do this again some time. James hoped, at least. For now, though, he just pulled Ronson closer. His demons were finally quiet and he wanted to sleep.


End file.
